Whiteout
by moonchildd
Summary: The boys get snowed in while playing video games at Cartman's clubhouse. The snowstorm is a record breaker for Colorado. It destroys power and telephone lines, buries the mountain town beneath a kilometer of snow and traps the four friends in an icy tomb. Inspired by the Ottawa Ice Storm of 1998. (K2)
1. Prelude

Just about everyone at school would kill for an invite to Cartman's clubhouse. The place is a teenage boy's dream; real swords, daggers, and a variety of rifles adorn almost every wall. There's a pool table, a vintage arcade, and a shelf for hookahs and liquor. The clubhouse doesn't *really* belong to Cartman they mumble to each other as he makes his way through the school hallways. They say he lucked out and found it by accident; a fact that steered bitter envy among his classmates. Well fuck them he thinks. He wasn't about to let a bunch of dirty hippies fart up HIS hangout anyway. The only people worth his attention are already here.

"How did you find this place? " gapes Stan, tracing one of the ornamented swords. The sword in question is a favorite of Cartman's due to it being a collectible. He knows those things because he's fucking awesome and totally figured out that the initials carved into the base of the carved handle probably meant something, so he looked them up. They turned out to be the initials of a famous Japanese sword maker, who's works are auctioned off starting at 15k.

"Stop being so gullible Stan." he says in a sing song voice "I 've told you before, it belonged to my great uncle Dean, who was a total badass, you know the story Stan."

"No he doesn't, you just made that up!" Shouts Kyle, like the neurotic Jew- bitch he is.

"Oh really Kahl? You got evidence to back that statement? Oh, what's that? You dooooon't? I wonder why someone would say something so ignorant without having any evidence. I really do Kahl. Do you know why someone would run their mouth like a little faggot when they've got no supporting evidence? Kahl? Any thoughts Kahl?"

"Shut the fuck up fatass!"

"Why Kahl! There's no need to lash out just because you've been exposed as a guy who says things he can't prove!" He mocks, backing up in fake fear.

"Oh my God!" Shouts Kyle, already past his laughably low boiling point. "I DON'T, care anymore!" Then bends to pick up his coat and heads for the door.

"Typical Jew behaviour." sighs Cartman.

Stan throws him a dirty look then rushes after his Super Best Butt Buddy. " No dude, come on! Don't leave!" He pleads "We were gonna have so much fun! Come on dude, it's going to suck without you!"

Kyle just shakes him off. "I'm not spending another minute in that asshole's company!"

Kenny's the one to intervene next. "He's right. Nothing's fun without you there Kyle."

A charged silence settles between them, which is when Cartman realizes that the situation just gained a new variable.

"C'mon, Kyle. Stay." Says Kenny in this half hushed tone that has Kyle stepping away from the door and walking up to face him. "It will be fun." He adds.

"Okay." replies Kyle absently, eyes never leaving Kenny's.

Oh it will be fun Cartman thinks, grinning like he's just set a cat on fire for the very first time in his life. _ It will be real fun._


	2. Paved With Good Intentions

_A/N: Thanks for reviewing, it really helps me stay motivated :)  
Things are about to get all ~sexual~, so just a heads up, NSFW._

"All right, Stan!" whoops Kenny, clasping Stan's hand and thrusting it in the air like that of a champion. Stan slams down his drink with a victorious roar, not missing a beat.

"Whoop whoop, no one drinks like Gaston." Mocks Kyle, bored with the banal drinking games no party seems to be complete without. He used to enjoy parties, he really did. _When we were in 4th grade _his mind supplies.

"Oy!" slurs Stan, you take that Disney shit and shove it… up…" he pauses, as if being tested on where exactly Kyle should shove his Disney shit. "-Up your ass. YEAAAAHH." He finishes, highfiving Kenny. Dear lord, _why._

"I've got one!" joins in Kenny, "Put that Disney shit in an envelope, return address: your ass."

"Cartman, are any of those guns loaded?"

"Depends."

"On what?"

"Who you're planning to shoot."

"Them, and then me."

"Then no."

"Pff you suck." snickers Kyle despite his annoyance at how soon the night turned into a frat party.

"Why are you still sober Kahl? Srslah, I'm sick of people refusing to drink. You're either with or against us Jewzilla."

"Yeah Kyle, not cool. Here, try this." Says Stan, shoving a glass of mixed liquor right into Kyle's face.

"No you guys! I'm on meds! I can't have more than one glass, which I already did, so stop harassing me!"

"Aw Kahl, no one's harassing you." Says Cartman, pinching Kyle's ass. Kyle jumps to his feet, face probably emitting enough heat to fry an omelet. "Cartman, you fatass faggot!" he shouts, slapping Cartman with Stan's hoodie. "Ow! Mother fucker! That hurt you Jew Rat!" exclaims Cartman, pressing both hands over an eye. "You got me with the zipper..!" he whines, attempting to kick Kyle without getting up.

"Just like your mom did after sucking you off." Chimes in Kenny.

"Shut the fuck up poor boy! I bet your dad pimps out your whole family!"

Kenny tenses at this. Cartman knows better than to mention Kenny's sister, but even a quip like this is cutting it close.

"Nope, just me. I bring in the big bucks." deflects Kenny.

Everyone seems to breathe a mute sigh of relief. This could have ended very badly for Cartman.

"Do you guys wanna do something else? How about the arcade? We haven't even seen half of this place." Asks Kyle, desperate to get out of the bar.

"Sure."

"Nah."

Say Kenny and Stan simultaneously.

"Dude those games are old as shit, I'm not drunk enough for fucking Pong." Says Stan, pouring himself another shot.

"Suit yourself." Shrugs Kenny. "I've missed this crap. What do you want to play first dude?" he asks, turning to Kyle "Shooter or racing?"

"No idea, let's see first what the Fatass got." Smiles Kyle.

* * *

They settle on a racing game.

Kenny starts up the machine and Kyle squints as the screen lights up blue in the dark arcade.

"I remember this one!" exclaims Kyle as the character selection menu fills the screen. "It's the same game that we all played at my 5th birthday!" he laughs, running his hands over the familiar wheel. He remembers the day so well. Everyone else were already six. Kyle was the smallest and Stan ended up playing in his place, but Kyle enjoyed it just the same.

One moment stood out in particular in Kyle's memory. Cartman brought a few pages from a trendy gaming magazine and the four of them spent hours imagining how it would be like to play those games; making up their own stories and characters, even drawing some out.

"Do you remember the magazine Cartman brought?" he asks, though he knows that the question is pointless. That detail might have stuck in Kyle's memory, but only a fool could guarantee that the same would apply to everyone else present that day.

"No." says Kenny, confirming Kyle's thoughts. "But I do remember how awesome your house smelled." He adds, looking oddly wistful. "And how Cartman threw a fit over the pizza toppings. "

"Yeah, me too." replies Kyle, turning away to face the glowing menu. He picks the red flying car.

No one really wanted the second pizza, but Kenny practically inhaled it, eggplant topping and all. Kyle doesn't like this part of the memory; it makes him feel like he's swallowed something slimy and cold.

Nothing appeared out of place when he was 5, or 9, or even 15; Kenny always seemed to be a natural part of the background noise of his life.

Looking back on it through the lens of his present day mindset is nearly unbearable to Kyle. He hates himself for what he feels for the older boy. He hates himself because love is supposed to be unselfish, yet that's exactly what Kyle's been for nearly sixteen years of his life toward the person he supposedly loves the most in this world.

"Dude, where the fuck did you go, I can't enter the warehouse if you don't go through the same tunnel I did!" cuts in Kenny into Kyle's thoughts.

"I think I'm heading back to the city, crap!"

He soon loses himself in the game, making his way out of the stupid tunnel and then finally meeting Kenny's car at the warehouse where they trade the cars for motorcycles.

They're in the middle of level four when Kyle feels a hand settle on his knee. It takes all of Kyle's composure not to jump out of his seat.

Holy. Shit.

Kyle imagined it a million times; just about every minute of every day of the past year have been devoted to trying to banish Kenny from his mind. He worked himself up to the point of tears with the sheer force of the love he felt-_feels_ for the other boy and the knowledge that he must never make the first move, must never expect or demand anything of Kenny, especially love, because he didn't so much as acknowledge Kenny's existence… Until he did.

It's precisely why he allows Kenny's hand to travel higher up his thigh, why he lets him forget all about the stupid game. It's why he guides Kenny's hand to his own cock and why he pushes Kenny back down into his seat and leaves his own just to climb into Kenny's lap. It's why he doesn't let Kenny kiss him as he impales himself without preparation and hardly any lube (as if the spit could possibly be any help), bringing tears to both of their eyes. He does all this because he loves Kenny more than life itself, but mostly because he hates himself twice as much.

This is all he'll take Kyle decides; looking down into Kenny's fevered eyes. He will accept this because Kenny seems to want this as much as he does, but Kyle won't be selfish. Not this time.

* * *

_A/N: __This story in a nutshell:Things Escalating Q__uickly_

_The next chapter will be much longer and plottier- I promise **;_


	3. Cloudy With a Chance of Flurries

Cartman nearly dislocates his shoulder in an effort to get a better look at Kyle and Kenny as they enter the bar. Kyle seems suspiciously shifty and Kenny…Kenny looks like someone _died._ Trouble in paradise? Chuckles Cartman. Whatever happened in the interval between Stan passing out on the floor and Stan vomiting while passed out on the floor must have been world shattering, if the look on Kenny's face is anything to by.

"Oy, Kinny, put that face away before you spoil all the edibles!" he mocks. Kenny ignores the jab but it still feels good to finally get the inbred cockmuncher back; the asshole started to seriously get under Cartman's skin during the past few years.

Cartman glances back at Kyle. Kyle isn't exactly beaming either, but there's no comparison between the pure anguish practically oozing from Kenny's every pore and Kyle's slightly paler, if somewhat anxious expression. _No doubt about it_ decides Cartman, not even attempting to disguise his glee, Poor_-Boy got rejected._

He fucking knew there would be delicious drama.

Just then Stan decides to give signs of life. "Guuuuyssssss" he groans, as if auditioning for a Burton movie. "Where have you been?" he asks, lifting his head out of the puddle of vomit that until now served him as a pillow. "Kyleeee I missed you buddy."

Kyle kneels by his Super Butt Buddy and lifts him to his feet. "Come on Stan, we're going to get you cleaned up." he says gently, wiping the vomit from Stan's face with a sleeve.

He leads Stan up the stairs, leaving Cartman with Kenny, who managed to jam himself into the darkest corner in the room in a retarded attempt at turning invisible.

Cartman sighs theatrically, leaning back into the plush couch.

"Must have been some dry spell." He comments, as if talking to himself.

He gets no answer. The damn prat must be even more upset than he first thought. Ah fuck it. They were friends once- It gotta count for something right? He can be charitable… Especially since it's Kenny; biggest charity case Cartman's ever met in his entire fucking life.

"Aw Kinny, there are plenty of fish and shit, just fuck that Jew man, seriously."

"Don't."

"You can't let him get to you, srslah-"

"Fuck off."

"What's that Poor boy?" asks Cartman as he leans forward, hinting that he's a hair away from getting up and manually fixing Kinny's attitude.

The threat goes unnoticed by the other boy who just looks like he's unimaginably weary of all mortal affairs.

The kid has always been just a tad creepyfying. Cartman isn't even ashamed to admit that his skin crawls every time he gets into one of his moods.

It's even more annoying to be left hanging than having him snap back. _Who the fuck does he think he is?_ Fumes Cartman, getting up to pick at the pepperoni pizza that he's ordered all for himself.

The others only ordered one to split between the three of them, which Kyle quickly regretted when Stan and Kenny got a hold of it. Stan's a pretty big guy now, with an appetite to match and Kenny…Cartman's got no idea how Kenny's doing financially these days; he assumes no better, what with how he still treats every meal like it's his last.

"Do you ever..." speaks up Kenny from his corner. His voice sounds strangely amplified, like sound travelling through a tunnel. "Do you ever feel like you're dying?"

"Uh, who's ass did this come from exactly?" asks Cartman, feeling his brows nearly merge with his hairline.

"I mean figuratively…Do you ever feel like something inside you is dying, but you're still alive, and it feels wrong to…To just carry on, when a part of you is clearly dead, you know?"

Cartman takes an exasperated breath. Jesus Coachella Christ.

"So you need assistance crossing over to the other side? Is that it? Because I'm a humanitarian dude, I'll put you to sleep faster than you can say _neutered_." He actually would though. He'd euthanize all the fucking Goths just to get them to stop bitching. Them and their pets. And maybe Stan too. Just to be on the safe side.

Kenny gives him an ironic smile. "I highly doubt it, but consider yourself awarded the South Park honor for humanitarian effort."

"Right. I'm just going to assume that you're done. You make a shit emo, so cut it the fuck out."

"Okay." Grins Kenny, this time his smile is genuine.

"Want a drink?"

"Sure."

* * *

"I'M GOING BACK THERE!" screeches Stan as he attempts to wriggle out of Kyle's grip "MY BIOLOGICAL CLOCK IS TICKING KYLE, DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT'S SAYING?"

"That you were born without a uterus?"

"OH MY GOD! YOU'RE RIGHT!" he exclaims, glancing down at his abdomen. "But that's not ittttt! Kyle it's saying I need a drink! I demand alcohol! Demand, not request. Kyle, I am firmly. FIRMLYYYYYY set on this. I am in democratic consensus with my organism, and both of us DEMAND to be smashed."

"Stan you're already past shit faced, if you drink anymore, I'm going to call an ambulance to get your stomach pumped."

"Well that sounds unpleasant" hiccups Stan. Kyle takes this chance to push him back into the bathtub and squeeze a handful of soap into his own hand.

"Yeah, well I bet it's not even half as unpleasant as your breath."

"Hey…" Sighs Stan, mellowing out under the warm water.

Kyle lathers up Stan's soiled face and hands, and then removes his ruined shirt. He reaches for the shampoo and pops it open with a flick of his thumb. It smells kinda girly, like strawberries and cinnamon but he decides to use it anyway; it might cover up the smell of vomit.

Kyle is nearly finished rinsing out Stan's hair when the lights go off.

"Woah, what was that?" asks Stan. There's a sound of plastic rings snapping and the squeak of Stan's naked back sliding further down the bathtub. There goes the shower curtain.

"I don't know." replies Kyle steadily. He reaches for the tap and shuts off the water. "Stay here." He commands his Super Best Friend.

The building is agonisingly unfamiliar. Kyle imagines that it would be much the same to walk through the jungle blindfolded; he collides with anything even remotely on his path, breaks several somethings yet falls only once (although, very painfully) as a cat appears from seemingly nowhere and trips him like a furry bandit.

He finally stumbles into the right hallway. Cartman and Kenny must have lit something in the guestroom because it's the only part of the house that isn't totally swallowed in darkness.

"You guys! What happened?" he calls out, drawing closer to the light.

"The motherfucking power went out!" answers Cartman, in his usual irritated manner.

Kyle finally reaches the guestroom. The source of the light is a supersized candle which up close smells like apple scented dish detergent. Kyle and Kenny are sitting on the bar counter, their faces partially illuminated by the flickering light. It's almost festive.

"Why did the power go out?" asks Kyle redundantly.

"How the fuck should we know why the fucking power went out?!" spits Cartman, chucking a handful of potato chips in Kyle's general direction. "Are all Jews so retarded, or is it just you?"

"Fuck off." Says Kyle, rolling his eyes. He hops on to the bar counter to sit by Kenny's side. It could just be his imagination but Kenny seems to virtually freeze on the spot. Has something gone wrong between them because of their recent...Intimacy? The whole train of thought makes him nauseous so he squashes it before it could snowball into full blown paranoia.

"I demand to speak with your manager! No I will not fucking hold buddy, put me through to the fucking manager, yes my name is Eric Cartman. Hello yes I would like to know why our power has been shut off. Uh-uh...No…I have not checked outside…Hold on..."

Says Cartman as he reaches for the nearest window and opens the blinds.

"What the fuck?!" he shrieks into the receiver, "Why has no one warned me that God would be jizzing up a motherfucking tsunami! NO I DO NOT WATCH THE NEWS! OH YOU TOO BUDDY! FUCK YOU AND YOUR FUCKING CALLER ID!"

Kyle no longer pays attention to Cartman's shouting; he's unable to tear away from the scene outside. Never in his entire life in South Park has he witnessed something so…Extreme.

It's not just the snow (though judging by how half the window's been submerged already it should be at around fifteen feet) the wind blows with hurricane like force, tumbling away the fishing shed like a cardboard box.

"This is unreal…" whispers Kyle, tracing the icy glass. Just then his phone begins to ring.

Snapping out of his stupor Kyle pulls it out. The caller ID reads 'Home'. Oh wow, his parents must be hella worried.

"Hello?"

"Kyle, sweetheart are you okay?"

"Yeah mom, I'm alright! I'm at Cartman's…" he trails off as he catches Cartman furiously signalling for him to shut up. "Place." He finishes. Cartman slaps a hand to his forehead. Well what the fuck did he expect Kyle to say?!

"I'm perfectly ok, really!" he continues, moving the cellphone to his other ear while turning his back to Cartman and his amateur attempts at flag telegraphy. "The heat's working and the house is standing so I guess that's good! How are you and dad doing?"

"Oh we're just fine honey, no need to worry about us. The roads are absolutely clogged, so I hope none of you are planning to head back home in this weather!"

"Oh no mom, we're staying put. For good looks like."

"Well the city _has_ told everyone to stay put, so you boys should be ok. Call me before heading home, alright Kyle?"

"Uh sure. Bye mom."

Kyle presses the 'end call' button and turns again to the snowed in window.

Looks like it will be at least a week till he'll be making that call.

There's a loud electric buzz and the lights are back on.

_A/N: This is the rough copy because I lost the revised version in the most tragic of computer crashes. Enjoy my embarrassing typos ~_


End file.
